


How to Play Pretend

by Augustine Sycamore (Vandamn)



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Friends With Benefits, I'm really mean to Momo basically, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-26 21:37:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5021377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vandamn/pseuds/Augustine%20Sycamore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's easy to play pretend. It's dangerously easy. Easy to scratch nails across a too-slender back and easy to pull hair that's too scruffy and short. It's easy to pretend that someone else's voice is breathing your name and that someone else is arching their back for you, always eager, always so ready for you. It's easy to be mean to someone who will let you do whatever you want with them.</p><p>The hard part is getting yourself to stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Tried to avoid this but I'm weak to the bone_  
>  _My inner compass points me to the unknown_  
>  _But I still keep running faster_  
>  _Yeah, someday I'll find the answer_  
>  -"Pretend", Bad Suns

“Hey! You miss me?” Rin's voice erupts from Sousuke's phone, that same voice. “Guess who’s visiting home for the first time in forever?” That same sharp, fierce voice, and this time it’s tinged with excitement. “Are you gonna be free to hang out when I get there or what?" 

Rin doesn’t even have to ask. Of course Sousuke will be free. Sousuke is always free when it comes to Rin. It isn’t even a question. Sousuke will always make time for Rin.

_Rin_. Rin with his red hair and red eyes, pointed teeth framed by pouty lips. The Rin from his dreams, the very same.

Rin.

But—

But it's Momo— Momo who later lies beneath him, who digs nails into his skin and breathes hard, eyes squeezed shut, tears brimming— Momo who says what Sousuke has always wanted to hear from a red boy's mouth.

“Don’t stop," he gasps, voice notched in places from pain that Sousuke is much too selfish to pay attention to. "Yamazaki-senpai, don’t stop..."

His name falls like shattered glass from Momo's lips, and his voice sounds awry, like someone took a hammer to a dozen mirrors; it's a fragmented reflection of what it’s supposed to be. It's not the right pitch, not even the right volume. But Sousuke is good at pretending— even now he pretends: that the hair he grips burns his hands with ruby redness, that the body he's driving into isn't as slender as it feels. That the bruises he's leaving will show up on Rin like inky fingerprints pressed down onto a clean canvas.

So he continues to imagine Rin calling his name, stretched out before him in this bed, chest rising and falling like ocean waves. Imagines it's Rin who reaches for his face in the darkness and smudges a shaky thumb over his cheek while his lips tremble. Imagines Rin releasing cracked breaths past those lips, and his legs, high above his head, jerking with each thrust deep, deep into him.

But it's not Rin. It's not Rin. And he can pretend, but he doesn’t forget that.

-

Rin is coming back.

He is. And Sousuke is trying to reconcile with the fact that he will see him again, and that his feelings with well up more furiously than ever like water at a boil once he arrives. It’s been over a year— over a year without him, and Sousuke has gone on before for much longer than that, but this time it’s different; this time they’re older, and this time Sousuke is not a child full to the brim with confused feelings and guilty thoughts. He thinks about other things now. Things like how it would feel to hold Rin’s hand in his, how his lips would taste if he kissed him slow. And how it would look to see Rin under him, covered in sweat and pink in the face, saying his name in a rush of breath. _Sousuke—_

Sousuke sits up in bed and looks at his phone in an attempt to distract himself. These are things he knows are impractical, maybe even impossible. How can it possibly work out when Rin now lives thousands of kilometers away from him? How can it when Rin only sees him as a friend? How? Always that question. How? Answer that.

Sousuke hates answers. Answers break things. He knows that a rejection would break his heart, and it's better for him not to risk it. But it's that very heart that's pushing him now, that's burning with the desire to reveal itself. He can't imagine what Rin's face would look like if he told him everything. He'd certainly  _like_ to think that it'd be tinged with a blush, that Rin's eyes would go wide and surprised. That he'd look beautiful in the midst of truth. But those are just daydreams. He knows it's not that simple. Everyone knows it's not that fucking easy.

Easy things aren't worth it. Or at least that's what Sousuke tells himself.

He wants to tell Rin everything he feels when he comes back. He might as well. And if Rin truly is his friend, he won't break off their friendship over some silly feelings. Would he? Sousuke isn't even sure he'll be able to resist telling him anyway. Not when he inevitably comes back from Australia with more muscle and tanned skin. God, Sousuke can already picture him, so lean and gorgeous, eyes shining at seeing his home again. Wearing a shirt that shows off the steady lines of his shoulders and arms. One that gives him a peek of his collarbone so Sousuke can think about leaving marks all over it. Or any clothes that make Sousuke think about them on his floor are fine by him, at any rate.

Alright, he's definitely hard. And that's a problem, because he told himself he was going to cut down on masturbating while thinking about Rin. It's easier said than done. Rin is hard not to think about. And it's hard not to think about him doing _certain things_ , things like taking Sousuke's cock from the back while his face is buried into a pillow, with his hair fisted in Sousuke's hand as he thrusts into him, _god_ , this is bad. This is not helping. This is _not_ helping.

Why not indulge, then? He's already decided to do it, to confess, why not cut himself a little break? God, he's so easily swayed, isn't he. And he said easy things aren't worth it too, his life is such a mess. Sousuke is almost embarrassed at all the bullshit he justifies to himself. It's— ironically— easier not to care about it.

He sits back in his bed and pulls his cock free from his boxers, resigned. Or as resigned as he can possibly feel right now. And he fills his thoughts with Rin, floods his vision with red and black and purple bruises all the way down his waist from his hands— he'd just love to spoil that pale skin of his, imprint it with his fingertips. Mark it with his teeth. Make it bend to his will. Rin would be so pretty, wouldn't he, so fucking beautiful taking Sousuke as deep as he can with his hands gripping hard to some sheets. Sousuke imagines pushing his head down, soft red strands tickling his fingers. And then he'd pull him back up by his hair whenever he thrusts into him, listening to him moan his name, broken and breathy, and saying something like  _you're so big,_ something ego-inflating like that, like  _it's so good._   _It's so good Sousuke, give me more._ God, Sousuke would burn just to hear him say those words. And he thinks about how tight Rin would be around him, how hot and smooth he'd feel squeezing around Sousuke's cock, and Sousuke would spread his cheeks and watch himself push in and out of him for a while before resolving himself and then taking him by his lean hips and fucking him so hard he's shaking by the end of it. Shaking and crying and turning to reach for him, pulling him close and gasping into his ear.  _So good,_ he'd whisper through quivering lips.  _You always fuck me so good._

Sousuke feels, somehow, like he's reaching a new low, but he's also so close to coming that he doesn't really care. It's so easy to come when he thinks about Rin. All he has to do is imagine that body doing anything he wants it to do. So he continues, pumping himself faster, a blur of fantasies clouding his mind. He wants to hear Rin groan his name over and over. He wants to see Rin fall apart under his hands. He wants to defile every inch of him. Every fucking inch of him.

It doesn't take long. In fact, it could have taken longer, and Sousuke is a bit disappointed, but he accepts it anyway— he was pent up. He wipes himself off and looks at the unfinished homework on his desk. It's English. Rin's the one who helped him get good at English. Rin's helped him so much, hasn't he? Even helps him get off.

Sousuke thinks about Rin doing the same thing he just did. Writhing and whimpering in his bed in Australia, touching himself and thinking of Sousuke— which is just so unlikely but Sousuke can't help it, he can almost taste the vision on his tongue, Rin's fingers covered in his pre-cum, stroking himself as he moans into the hand covering his mouth. Fuck. Two of his own fingers pushing into his tight heat, working himself open until he can fit something bigger in there and then he can really get going.

_Fuck_ , he's not going to get any homework done today.

-

Rin is coming back.

Momo knows, somehow, that this is his last chance. That this is all he has left, this span of time before Rin gets back to Japan. Sousuke surely can’t wait any longer. He’ll definitely take this chance to tell Rin how he feels, and when he does—

And when he does, because Momo knows he will, Rin will say… something. Momo can’t predict Rin’s reaction. He may know what Sousuke feels, could see it written on his face even in high school, but Rin is different, he’s the unknown. That could be because Momo naturally always paid more attention to Sousuke, but whatever. There’s no changing that now.

Momo rereads Rin’s message for what seems like the thousandth time. _Hey, you little twerp, guess what? I’m heading back to Japan to visit soon so you’d better be ready when I do. I hope you’re not bothering Gou, by the way._  

Momo has initially wanted to laugh when he first received the message but the gut-wrenching anxiety had won out easily at the time. Gou had been a distant memory for a while now; not that he never talked to her, because she would occasionally comment something polite on his social media accounts, but he had stopped having a romantic interest in her mere months after having met her, like a sparkler that had fizzled out much too quickly. After that, Momo had burned for someone else— still did, in fact, even now. Even now that they’ve both graduated and attend different universities. Universities that neighbor each other, sure, but Momo hadn’t actually planned that out... too much. It just so happened that the university with the great marine biology program was right next to the one with the coaching program. Pure luck... Except for the fact that Momo had forgone an even _better_ marine biology program just to be near Sousuke. He needs to stop trying to deceive himself every time he thinks about that.  

Momo searches up Sousuke’s phone number in his contacts. The number stares back at him like it could potentially jump out of his phone and wring around his neck and strangle him. Maybe he’s being dramatic, he tends to be, but that’s truly what it feels like, his thumb hovering over the call button. This should be easy, right? It would be so easy to call Sousuke and ask him to lunch with no implications involved, right? But what’s the point of that if Momo is going to tell him anyway? That’s what the purpose of this is. To tell Sousuke. Tell him everything.

Maybe tell him that he never should have been so nice to Momo, never should have been so handsome, because that’s caused this whole mess.

Momo is running out of time, he can feel it. Like a weight crushing his shoulders to the floor, he can feel it. Rin is coming back, and he has little time to waste, and perhaps Sousuke is thinking something along those lines too.

Momo opens his messages and begins a new draft, fingers trembling. He huffs out a nervous little breath as he writes the first words, and gets through the rest of it as fast as he can.

He sends it before he can regret it.

 - 

_Can I talk to you?_ , the message from Momo reads.

Sousuke quite literally has no idea what would prompt Momo to ask him something like that. He sees no reason why Momo wouldn’t be able to talk to him about anything. What kind of problem could that kid possibly have on his mind anyway? Something to do with Gou, maybe, not that Sousuke can really help in that area.

_Sure_ , he types easily back, and resumes watching TV, although with slightly less concentration this time. He wants to know what Momo wants. People don’t just send messages asking to talk if they don’t have some sort of pressing issue. Although, knowing Momo, it could be something as banal as he’s sad that one of his beetles died. Sousuke truly has no way of knowing what’s on that guy’s fuzzy little mind. He’s always been a more eccentric sort.

_In person, I mean. Can we talk in person?_

Momo is typing unusually seriously and Sousuke’s not sure how to deal with the lack of emoticons and exclamation marks. Momo is incredibly easy to deal with when he’s excited. When he’s serious… well, that’s uncharted territory for Sousuke. He’s never known Momo to be serious, and he doesn’t want to start now if he can help it. Momo usually doesn't text him like this. When he does text him, it's usually to ask how his day went or to update him on his beetles' lives.

_Sure. Where?_ , he replies.

He refrains from asking what the issue is. All in due time, he figures, and he also figures he should tell Rin about how cryptic his ex-kouhai is being and what he possibly makes of it, but _something_ also tells Sousuke that it’s none of Rin's business in the first place and Momo wouldn’t appreciate it. Something… he’s not sure what, but _something_. It’s best that he doesn’t do it until he actually knows what the problem is.

_My apartment._

Well, that’s interesting. Sousuke has never actually gone to Momo’s apartment, even though Momo’s been over to his for tutoring on English— despite not actually being that bad at it. He imagines it’s pretty messy. Not that he’d say that to his face. Or even over text. But based on his room in high school, it's only reasonable to infer that his apartment would also be a mess, even if Nitori isn't there to contribute to the general uncleanliness.

_Alright. When?_

_Tomorrow. Please?_

Something about that catches Sousuke off guard.

_I’ll be there_ , he answers anyway.

_Thank you._

Sousuke’s fingers are legitimately itching to tell Rin what’s going on. His respect for Momo’s privacy wins out, though, and he’s glad, it’s not like he can tell Rin _everything_ , no matter how much he wants to. After all, it’s not like Rin tells _him_  everything. Surely there are things he keeps from him. When he has a bad day, he probably won’t tell Sousuke unless it was utterly horrible. He doesn’t like being seen as a complainer. There are other things he wouldn’t tell Sousuke, of course. Sousuke can’t honestly expect to know everything that’s happening with Rin when the boy is so far away.

He can’t know when Rin goes out at night or when he’s making new friends or having fun with other people. He can’t know when Rin gets too drunk and someone helps him home. He certainly can’t know whether or not Rin is _attracted_ to anyone there, after all he’s so far away and Sousuke couldn’t do anything about it anyway, so he can’t know if Rin has kissed someone before or if he’s let someone take him to bed. If he’s let someone press their fingers into the dips of his hips and let someone rock against him. He can’t know any of that.

God, fuck this. 

Sousuke almost texts Momo telling him to screw himself for leading him to think about this, but it’s not his fault in the first place. It’s his own fault. It’s always his own fault for letting himself get carried away by jealousy and heartache. He doesn’t know how to deal with his own fucking emotions, only knows how to submerge them, how to smother them. He only knows how to distract himself.

He pulls up Rin’s number in his phone, turning off the TV. He hears a few rings before that same “Hey,” meets his ears, that same clear, gorgeous voice. He closes his eyes and leans back in his chair, allowing a smile to creep on his face.

“Hey, you.”

-

Sousuke shows up at Momo’s door after his classes, and Momo really thinks he could eat him alive.

Or maybe just suck him off, but whatever. That’s not what he’s here for. Unfortunately.

He looks good. Better than good, as he is wont to do, wearing a tight green polo shirt. Momo… tried, at least. He’s wearing what he believes to be his best pair of jeans. They could just be the ones he’s worn the least, though. God, whatever, he can’t even focus on that right now. 

“Hi,” he breathes out, and he immediately wants to slap the shit out of himself for how starstruck he sounds, but he also _can’t help it_ , Sousuke’s so big and tall and he’s just his type, and that’s why he’s here, anyway— so Momo can confess to him.

“Hey,” Sousuke says in that deep, confident voice; a voice that regularly puts Momo’s hair on end, just like it’s doing now. “You wanted to talk.”

“Yeah,” Momo answers nervously, and pulls away from the door with a single awkward step back. “Um. Come in.”

Sousuke steps leisurely in and closes the door behind him, and Momo is immediately aware of how alone they are. It's not like he's never been alone with Sousuke, because he has— on many an English tutoring appointment, not that he needs them—  but this is different, because it's in Momo's apartment, it's in his space, among his things, and _god_ , Momo desperately needs to not think about sucking Sousuke's cock while he's wearing that green fucking polo shirt, because that's not going to get him anywhere and it's not going to get him any _thing_ either, unless that includes a boner, and Momo can actually already feel one coming on. He walks over to his desk chair robotically and he swears he can hear his joints creak as he plops down upon it.

"So," Sousuke drawls, "What did you— "

"Um," Momo cuts him off. Nervously, he might add. "Can you sit down?" He motions vaguely in the direction of his bed before he can think about what a terrible decision that is.

"Alright." Sousuke takes a seat on Momo's bed and Momo immediately wants to scream. At himself. At the number of filthy thoughts suddenly infiltrating his mind. He doesn't know, he just wants to scream. Trying not to think about sucking this guy off is suddenly an impossibility. God knows how many times he's thought about it before when Sousuke wasn't even in his presence. This is too much. He wants to push Sousuke's legs apart and get between them.

"What did you want to talk about?" Sousuke asks, so casually that Momo almost bursts out laughing. He, on the other hand, is literally sweating.

Whatever. He has to start somewhere, no matter how sweaty and mind-numbingly terrified and hard he is. 

“A-Actually. I, uh, wanted to ask for your advice,” Momo says, and he’s certain, _certain_ , that Sousuke can hear his heartbeats, how loud they are, beating a discordant rhythm in his chest, like a hundred drums playing at once and overlapping each other. Or maybe he can see his pulse on his neck, the way it starts and stutters, or his hands, shaking so bad that he has to dig his nails into his palms to try and stop it. Maybe he can see all of Momo, exposed and vulnerable; maybe he already knows what Momo is going to say.

“Advice?” Sousuke asks, and he sounds unsuspecting, and that only makes Momo more nervous because he can’t tell whether Sousuke really is or not. It could be an act. Momo has no way to tell when he’s this frazzled.

“Yeah.” He licks his lips; they’ve gone really dry. “I— Lemme ask you a question first. So I know if you can actually help me. ‘Cause if you can’t… Um, I— I’ll ask someone else for advice. Okay?” Momo can’t even hear himself talk. His own words sound like impulsive nonsense to him. “It’s just. I need to know something before. So, um...”

Sousuke doesn’t even hesitate. “Alright.”

"I just..." Momo hesitates, squeezing his hands even harder. "I just really need to ask this, and..."

"...Alright," Sousuke repeats himself.

"And you're the only one I can ask," Momo says, and he can _feel_ himself starting to ramble. "Because— well, it'll make sense eventually, but right now I just need you to trust me on this—"

Thankfully, Sousuke interrupts him. "Momo, I understand. Just say what you have to say."

It could be easy, Momo thinks, it could be so easy to stop beating around the bush and just _tell him_ , shout it at him, maybe; it would be so simple to open his mouth and say it and get it over with, and instead he’s choosing to drag this out to the point where he's only making it more difficult. Every second that passes has him doubting himself in exponentially increasing amounts. He’s not even sure what his own logic is anymore. It had been a good idea at one time, hadn’t it? He hadn’t wanted to blindside Sousuke either, but is this any better? Sousuke will catch on, _Sousuke will catch on_ , he thinks, and he’ll interrupt him before Momo even says it, and he’ll look like a foolish little boy, just a kid who let his hopes run away with him, who thought he could compete with a future Olympian two years his senior. It’s pathetic. Pathetic. God, Momo really wants to cry. He should have asked his brother about this, but how could he? He could have asked Gou, maybe, but she might’ve told Rin, and that would have made everything so much worse. So in the end, there was no other option but this, this moment right now in his apartment, no option but to go it alone. There was no other way, and that’s why he’s here now, with tears smarting in his eyes as panic rises in his throat. He wants to cry, but he can’t, he _can’t_. He whips around in his chair, stares down at the English textbook on his desk, and wills himself not to get any tears on it.

“Momo?” Sousuke sounds both confused and concerned, and he also sounds seconds away from getting up and checking on him, which Momo _cannot allow_ , so he says, in a voice high and cracked—

“Have you ever liked someone?”

There’s silence, which Momo can’t say he didn’t expect. But it’s too late now. If he doesn’t keep going, he’s going to lose all the nerve he’s painstakingly built up. 

“I mean _really_ liked someone. Liked them so much you couldn’t stop thinking about them. Even though they might not like you back. Have you ever… Have you ever liked someone like that?” His voice breaks in all sorts of places, but he asks it, and the tightening around his neck loosens a little. Still, the closer to his destination he gets, the warmer he feels, and he’s sure his face reflects that, so as much as he’d like to read Sousuke’s expression, he can’t turn around.

More silence, and Momo can hear the ticking of the clock on the wall. It’s an otter-shaped clock that his mother found at a novelty shop in Nagoya. It plays a lullaby if you press a button on the side. His brother used to tease him about it because he said it looked like it belonged in a baby’s nursery, and maybe it did, but Momo has always loved it just the same, and it’s helped him fall asleep countless times. And now— It’s foolish, but he wonders what Sousuke thinks of it, what Sousuke thinks of _him_ , if he considers him just some kid he knew in high school who never grew up and maybe never will, some little brother type. All of a sudden, Momo hates his little clock, and he hates his little stuffed otter sitting on his bed, and he hates his little toy soldiers sitting on his shelf. He feels so frustrated that he’s going to burst into tears any second— because Sousuke _still_ hasn’t said anything, and if he’s not going to say a fucking word then Momo doesn’t even want to continue this. So it comes crumbling down, all of it, all his courage and his hope, and he jams his nails even harder into his palm as he feels the first sob rising from his stomach to his chest to his throat, and he’s really, really going to cry right now—

“Do you like someone?”

Momo clenches down his teeth so hard that he bites his own tongue but he can’t care about that, not when it took Sousuke this long to answer. He wants to yell at him so loudly that his throat goes raw. Instead, he snaps back, “That doesn’t answer what I asked you.” 

“I guess not,” Sousuke concedes, and Momo hears him let out a deep breath, like this is somehow inconveniencing him. Momo could kill him. 

“So?” Momo rings out. He’s had just about enough.

“Well. I have, yeah. I think a lot of people have. But if you’re looking for advice from me on that sort of thing, I don’t really think I can help you. You should ask someone with more expertise.” He sounds awkward. Momo finds it in him to enjoy that a little.

“How much did you like them?” he asks hastily. The end is in sight, he knows that— God, he wants to get this over with.

“Are you serious?” Sousuke asks. He sounds annoyed.

“How much? I… I just need to know.” Momo’s not sure how to say it any other way. “I need to know.” 

“If, like you said, I ‘couldn’t stop thinking about them’, then I don’t think that’s because I only liked them a small amount,” Sousuke retorts.

Momo knows that. He knows all of this already. And he knows the answer to his next question too, but he asks it anyway, because he feels like that’s what he has to do. He has to breach the subject carefully; or as carefully as he can possibly manage considering the shitty circumstances.

“Was it a boy?”

The silence this time is utterly deafening. Momo knows what this means: that’s he’s in far too deep, and that after this, things with Sousuke won’t ever be the same again. He knows that. He knew all that before he stepped into this room and before he even texted Sousuke asking him to come to his apartment. Whatever they have right now— this senpai-kouhai thing— will end, and something new will begin. That could mean no relationship at all, not even friendship, but Momo has been complacent with stagnancy for so long that even something like that would be a welcome change. He can’t keep his feelings to himself forever— he can’t. He doesn’t function like that. Momo is open by nature. This has been too much of a strain on him. It was inevitable, all of this, or maybe Momo’s simply telling himself that to justify the mistake he’s about to make, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters. It’s too late to go back now. 

“What are you saying?” Sousuke’s inflection has begun to rise, and with it, so does the pace of Momo’s heartbeat. It’s happening. This is happening. Momo ducks his head.

“Can you just answer?” 

“Is that the sort of problem you’re having?”

“Senpai.” Does he sound desperate? He doesn’t know. He can’t stop. “Just answer.”

“Why don’t you answer me first?”

“I asked you first.”

Sousuke no longer sounds the least bit willing to put up with his interrogation, which Momo did expect to some degree. “What kind of question is that? What are you trying to say? Why the hell won’t you _turn around?_ ”

“Because I’m nervous!” Momo blurts, curling in on himself, “Can you just answer, it’s just something I need to know, okay—“ 

“Why should I have to answer personal questions, especially from you?” Sousuke asks, and the way he says it hurts something inside Momo, but he can’t focus on a thing like that right now, not when he’s so close.

But he can’t help how weak his voice sounds. “It’s important, alright, I just need to know this one thing and then it’ll all make sense, so can you please just—“

A phone rings. Momo jolts up, knows that’s not his ringtone.

He whirls around in his chair before he can stop himself and meets face to face with Sousuke, who meets his eyes momentarily before they flick down to his phone screen. And— Momo sees those eyes light up, watches them go warm and soft and sees the smallest of smiles creep on Sousuke’s face, sees the flash of red just as Sousuke stands up and opens his mouth, probably to say something like _Sorry, it’s Rin_ , and walk out, and Momo will never get this chance again because he will never willingly put himself through this all over again, he can’t, he has to do this now, right now.

He jumps up, rushes forward and grabs Sousuke’s shirt, squeezes his eyes shut and says it in a voice that trembles. 

"I like you.”

His forehead meets Sousuke’s chest and he waits until the phone is done ringing to say it again, quieter this time. “I do. I like you.”

Momo hadn’t really prepared for what Sousuke’s reaction might be, but he figured getting pushed away and yelled at was a possibility. Now Momo realizes how silly a thought that had been, because the only thing Sousuke is doing right now is staying silent, just like before. Maybe he’s mad that Momo made him miss a call from Rin. Well, if that’s the case, Momo doesn’t really give a damn, this was a long time coming after all, and Sousuke should have at least entertained the idea of someone developing feelings for him. Someone who isn’t Rin. And he really shouldn’t be as quiet as he is right now. It’s uncomfortable. Momo feels like his heart could rise out of his chest. God, _god_ , it’s dead silent, maybe he never should have done this— 

“What?”

Momo feels sick. He’s fairly certain he’s never felt worse than he does right now. His stomach is in knots, his entire body is trembling, his heart feels like it’s going to stop any second. He feels awful. This is awful. This is _horrible_.

“You didn’t hear me?” he squeaks out, and he hates how his voice sounds, how pitiful he sounds with a dry throat and quivering lips. Everything about this is awful.

“I heard you. I—“ Sousuke steps back. Momo lets his hands fall away from his shirt, feeling even sicker than before. “I—“

He looks at Momo, just stares at him, then looks back at his phone and then back at him, like he’s trying to make sense of something, and Momo can’t fucking take it. He breaks eye contact and looks at the ground instead, feeling the fight pour out of him like squeezing water out of a rag. 

This is what he wanted, isn’t it? Didn’t he push himself to do this? What did he expect to happen? What did he truly expect?

“I have to go.” 

Momo can’t even look at him when he says that. All he really wants to do is cry. He hears Sousuke grab his bag and hesitate at the door. He glances back, but he doesn’t say anything. Momo isn’t surprised.

Sousuke shuts the door behind him, and Momo gives himself ten seconds. He bites down on his lip. Ten seconds. He hears Sousuke’s quick footsteps disappear all the way down the hall as he reaches three, two, one.

He bursts into tears, and that's one of the only things that has happened all day he can say he fully expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cant believe the first chapter of this shit is ~5400 words im crying right now. it's pretty standard for me to write really long chapters, and i apologize to both you and myself lmao orz. please tell me if there are typos, i tried to read over it as best i could but i may have missed some!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG..... in all seriousness, i am a notoriously slow updater, so i'm very sorry for that!! and thank you to those who have left nice comments, they really encourage me!!

Sousuke gets home that evening and puts his keys on his desk. He shrugs off his bag and places it on the floor. And he sits down on his bed, staring straight at the ground.

Momo’s voice echoes in his head. _Have you ever liked someone?_ Starting out with an almost child-like anxiety. _I mean_ really _liked someone. Liked them so much you couldn’t stop thinking about them_. Moving into an overwrought questioning. _Have you ever liked someone like that?_ Asking like it’s the most important thing he has to know. _Was it a boy?_ A shaky question filled with fear.

_Was it a boy?_

Of course it was a boy. It was the only boy Sousuke had ever liked. And now he’s wracking his skull, trying to figure out how Momo knew to ask that. Because— there’s a reason he asked that, isn’t there? It can’t all have to do with—

With—

Sousuke clenches his fists and squeezes his eyes shut, replaying those last few words in his head. _I like you._ His voice had been so soft and scared. _I do. I like you._

Maybe that’s the only reason Momo wanted to know that. It couldn’t be because of Rin. It had to be because Momo wanted to know if he liked guys in general, not if he liked Rin. How could he know, anyway? Had Sousuke been that obvious in high school? Had Momo picked up on something? 

Even so, Momo has always been… rather spacey. He couldn’t possibly pick up on something like that, especially when Sousuke went to such lengths to keep his feelings hidden. Momo was the flightiest of them all. He’s the last person who would have figured out Sousuke liked Rin. Isn’t that right?

Sousuke becomes distinctly aware that he’s starting to panic. He doesn’t like panicking— he’s not sure what to do when it happens since it very rarely happens in the first place. He starts to pace around his room and then quickly stops— pacing is not something he does. No. This is not how he’s going to deal with this. He has to— has to do something else.

He wants to call Rin. It’s a physical _ache_. He wants to call Rin, hear his reassuring voice. Something tells him not to. He can’t tell Rin about something like this, it would be too awkward and Sousuke wouldn’t even know how to broach the subject in the first place. _Hey, it turns out Momo likes me. Who knew, right?_ No. God, that’s awkward. Sousuke would like to avoid talking to Rin about those sorts of feelings at all costs, anyway. It’s not something that has always yielded great results. Rin’s not one to immediately blabber on about which celebrity he finds attractive or anything. Sousuke has no idea what his type even is, if he has one.

Okay, focus. This is something completely new. Not that Sousuke has never experienced someone telling him they like him, because, unfortunately, he has, but not someone close to him. Not someone like Momo. Never something like that. He can’t think of a thing to do. He does know that he shouldn’t have walked away like that. He’s so awful, how could he have done that? How could he have left Momo without giving him an answer? He’s so, so awful. Momo opened up his heart to him and he just left him like his words meant nothing. That’s incredibly selfish. He's so awful.

He can’t call Momo to say he’s sorry. He just can’t. He wouldn’t know how to say it over the phone. He wouldn’t know how to explain himself. He left because he was overwhelmed. But what kind of shitty excuse is that? Momo was probably overwhelmed too. After all, he’s the one who was confessing his feelings. He’s the one with a reason to be overwhelmed. But Sousuke just doesn’t know how to deal with that sort of outpouring of emotion. It’s not something that comes naturally to him. Every time that someone has confessed to him, it’s ended awkwardly, and, on more than one occasion, Sousuke has hurt someone’s feelings with his bluntness. He wishes he could avoid these situations entirely. Out of courtesy, of course he can’t.

He’s not entirely sure what good it would do, but he almost wants to visit Momo at his apartment again. It would be better than calling because it’d be face-to-face. Calling wouldn’t be as sincere. Texting would be even worse. At least he can say he’s sorry in person. And he could give Momo an answer. Not one that he wants to hear, but at least he won’t keep him in the dark. A negative answer is better than nothing, isn’t it? It should be.

Sousuke will fix this. He will. He already can’t stand feeling guilty about this. Guilt is not a feeling he particularly likes carrying around. More than that, Momo is probably worse off right now, and it wouldn’t be right to leave him in that state. Sousuke understands what it means to like someone, just like Momo said. So he knows how much it can hurt. He can’t do that to Momo. It would be cruel.

Sousuke _will_ fix this.

-

Momo fills the tub nearly to the brim, and gets in until his head is almost submerged, eyes peeking above the water. Eyes that have cried too many times. He’s tired of crying, tired of feeling humiliation down to his bones. All he wants to do is wash it off.

He regrets it. He really does. And he told himself he wouldn’t. But he regrets it because of how it’s making him feel right now. Even now, a week later, he can’t focus on anything. Not a thing. His mind flashes back to it constantly, remembering Sousuke’s stilted tone and the way he walked away like he couldn’t wait to get out of there. He never should have told him. Even if he had to keep it to himself for the rest of his life, that still would have been better than what he got. He won’t be able to forget this. That’s what hurts the most.

He knows it’s not Rin’s fault, but he still hates him for calling at that exact moment. Things might have gone better if he hadn’t. Momo would’ve had more time to think about how he would tell him, how he would say it out loud. Instead he had mere seconds before he had to blurt it out. It’s not fair. It could have gone better. It could have. Sousuke would have had time to consider what he said without his judgment being clouded by Rin in the immediate moment. He might not have left so quickly. Things could have gone better.

_So much better_ , Momo thinks, and he knows where that’s going, and he hates himself for it, but it’s true, isn’t it? It could have gone so much better, Momo could have done as he wanted and pushed Sousuke’s legs apart and gotten between them and unzipped his pants. _Can I show you how much I like you?_ , he could have asked. And maybe things could have gone a little differently then.

Momo is tired, but he still feels himself shiver at the thought, at how good it feels. He would have let Sousuke come in his mouth. Would Rin do that? He’s not sure, it’s a weird thought. But _he_ would. He’d let Sousuke do whatever he wanted. Maybe he should have done that from the very start. Should’ve let Sousuke know how gone he is for him instead of taking the safe route. God, things could have ended so much differently then.

Sousuke might’ve been a bit thrown at first, but Momo feels like he would've been able to do it well enough to satisfy him. Not that he’s ever done it, but he’s certainly fantasized about it enough and read enough about it to feel like he could suck him off with a decent amount of success. Maybe he could have made Sousuke forget all about Rin, at least for a few moments. Maybe Sousuke would have grabbed his hair and pulled his head forward. Maybe he would have groaned Momo’s name.

Momo can already feel his own hands going towards his erection, but that won’t work beneath the surface. He pushes his shame to the side and stands up, facing the shower wall. He closes his eyes and feels his body go hot in anticipation. God, he’s really doing this, then. He’s done this many times before and, ridiculously enough, this week is the longest he’s gone without doing it. He’s been forcing himself not to. How does he expect to get over this if he’s always going to touch himself thinking about Sousuke? But he’s so pent-up now, so anxious and needy, and his erection is starting to hurt and it’s been a long day anyway, he got yelled at in class for being distracted and he could really use some release. Even though he knows he’s going to thoroughly regret this later, just like everything else.

He starts off with a few rough strokes, propping himself up against the shower wall with his arm. He feels almost shy about this. His cheeks are burning. But he keeps going, allowing his thoughts to wander, allowing his fantasies to overtake him. Yeah, things could have gone better. Sousuke could have ended up satisfied and he wouldn’t have walked away. He might have stayed. And then he might’ve _listened_ to Momo, might’ve looked at his own come on Momo’s lips and _listened_ to him, might’ve reached over and swiped it off with his finger and then pushed it into Momo’s mouth. He might’ve kissed him. God, what would it feel like to kiss him? Would it be gentle and soft or hot and frenzied? Would he stick his tongue in Momo’s mouth or nip at his lips? Would he move his head down to suck at Momo’s neck? Would he keep doing it until Momo was begging Sousuke to fuck him in a small whisper, _Fuck me, Fuck me Sousuke_ —

“ _Ahhh_ ,” Momo breathes, and he clamps his hand over his mouth, embarrassed that his neighbors might hear him, but unable to stop. It’s just— It’s so _easy_ to imagine Sousuke doing those kinds of things, he’s so handsome and big, and he’s probably equally big _down there_ and Momo wants so badly to find out, to stroke Sousuke’s length with his own hands and bring it to his own mouth and lick him and suck him and taste him, until he comes and tells Momo he did a good job. Momo wants that so, so _bad_. How many times has he thought about that exact scenario? Probably hundreds of times. And then— And then Sousuke would push him down somewhere, on his bed or the floor or somewhere, and he’d return the favor, and god, Momo can just imagine the feeling of Sousuke’s mouth, how good he’d be with his tongue, bringing him to climax after a good twenty minutes, and he’d be begging and groaning throughout. _Please, senpai, please let me come_. Sousuke would smile and tell him to be patient just a little while longer and Momo would obey, he’d do anything Sousuke said, he’d be so quiet and good for him, and Sousuke would reward him after a while and he’d smirk and he’d say in that deep, deep voice that reaches way down low, _Come for me_ , and he’d let Momo come all over his own stomach and then he’d lick it all up for him.

Holy shit. Holy shit, holy shit, Momo is gonna come, he’s gonna come thinking about Sousuke, _again_ , after he told himself not to, but it’s so hard, it’s so hard not to when he thinks about Sousuke doing all those things to him. “ _S-senpai_ ,” Momo huffs out, and his breaths come faster and faster, and he can feel his body seizing up until— until—

His moans are too loud to his own ears but it’s too late, he’s coming against the wall, every muscle in his body pulled taut. The fire is quickly consumed and then his muscles release and he’s as soft as jelly, and he sinks back down into the tub and tries to catch his breath. 

He closes his eyes, letting his mind stay blank for a while, unwilling to let the flood of thoughts bother him, but soon he’s unable to hold back the slew of disappointed and disgusted feelings, and they break through his mental wall like a hurricane.

In actuality, there’s no reason he should still be doing this. Sousuke is clearly an impossibility. He’s untouchable. He wants nothing to do with Momo. He’s Rin’s. And Momo is not Rin, he’s nothing like Rin. Rin is incredible. He’s a star. He’s amazing. Momo is none of those things. How could Sousuke ever want him? It’s just not possible, it’s outside the realm of possibility. Momo isn’t good enough for him. He deserves someone like Rin, someone at his level. That’s what he needs.

But, _god_ , Momo wants him. Wants to touch him and feel him and become enveloped in him. He thinks back to all those times Sousuke coached him in high school, all those sessions with him, and he regrets ever indulging himself with them.

Momo cries for what feels like the hundredth time this week. He curls into himself and he cries in the tub, and he doesn’t care if the neighbors can hear this time.

-

It’s nearly four in the morning when Sousuke gets a call. Through bleary eyes, he sees Rin’s face staring back at him from his phone screen.

Rin? He should be sleeping. Or, perhaps, he would be sleeping, except today is a weekend night. Not that that’s usually a reason to worry; Rin typically doesn’t go out on weekends if he can help it. He doesn’t party unless he’s forced. But… when he is forced, that doesn’t always lead to pleasant experiences. In the first place, Rin can’t hold his liquor to save his life. Not only that, but once he’s drunk, he’ll cry at random. He’s not too great at keeping himself from vomiting, either. Sousuke has firsthand knowledge of all of these things.

Sousuke closes his eyes briefly and gives a silent prayer that Rin was simply woken up by a bad dream or some other innocuous circumstance and is currently safe in his own apartment.

As soon as he answers the call, he hears the din of party music. Just his luck.

“Rin,” he says, hoping Rin can hear him over all the background noise, “What are you—“

“ _Sou-suke_ ,” Rin sing-songs, and Sousuke can pick up on Rin’s intoxication from the very first syllable of his name. That’s how he _always_ says his name when he’s ridiculously drunk. He feels a heavy unease grip him.

“Rin,” he repeats, firmer than before, “You’re drunk.”

Rin laughs his maddeningly cute drunk laugh. Sousuke squeezes the phone tighter. “Maybe...” he drawls. “After all, you’re not here, so you can’t _really_ confirm that, can you?”

Sousuke has to say something before that statement starts getting into his head and making him feel like shit that he really _isn’t_ there. “You — Rin, you — Where are you?” he blurts.

“Where am I?” Rin parrots back at him. “I’m — Uh, it’s…”

There’s a lengthy pause in which Sousuke can hear vague English. A nightclub? He nearly suggests as much, but is cut off.

“Actually… I don’t really remember. Isn’t that weird? Some friends brought me, but…” Rin mumbles a bit before speaking up again. “Oh, anyway, I have to tell you something. This girl—“

“Rin.” Sousuke interrupts. “Please tell me you’re joking and you actually know where you are.” At this point, Sousuke is sitting up in bed, any and all traces of sleepiness gone. 

“Sousuke, I didn’t call you so you could act like my mom, you know?” Rin laughs that cute laugh again, and Sousuke almost winces at the sound. It hurts to hear, to know Rin isn’t in front of him to show him the shaky smile that accompanies that laugh. But more than that, it hurts to know that Sousuke isn’t there to take him home from wherever the hell he is. How is he going to get home? Does he have enough money for a taxi? Would a taxi even be able to get to wherever he is? God, it doesn’t even matter if he sounds like Rin’s mom, he’s really worried now, and he needs to sort this out.

“Rin, listen to me, okay?” he says. He feels desperate. “Do you have your wallet on you?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course I have my wallet on me. You know I don’t like it when people pay stuff for me.” Rin cuts off to give a short sigh. “Anyway, what I was trying to tell you is that I met a girl from Japan, can you believe that? She has her practice sessions at the same time as I do and we just got to talking, she’s actually really nice! It was funny because — well no one else can understand us when we talk, so the guys kept thinking we were talking about them in secret, even though we definitely weren’t, we were just kinda making jokes. And, you know, she looks like Gou a little bit, in terms of the face anyway, because her hair is kinda short. But it was also nice meeting her because of that, and her personality is—"

“ _Rin_ ,” Sousuke says, a lot more forcefully than he intended. But he can’t help it, his heart is going a mile a minute, and he can’t keep listening to Rin talking about all the virtues of this unknown Japanese girl or he’s going to explode. “Do you have any kind of concern for your own safety? You don’t even know where you are. How are you going to get home? Where are your friends? Does your phone even have enough battery for you to be calling me right now?”

There’s a sizable silence that has Sousuke feeling more and more anxious the longer it goes on. At the very least, he can hear the party music continuing, so he knows Rin hasn’t hung up. After a few moments, he considers the possibility that Rin fell asleep, and he almost speaks up, but Rin beats him to it.

“Do you think I’m an idiot?”

Sousuke doesn’t expect that. “What?”

“Do you think I’m an idiot, Sousuke? Do you think I’d be calling you if I was helpless? Do you think I called you to get nagged at? I called you because I just remembered what I’ve been wanting to tell you all day. I thought you might be awake because sometimes you stay up late doing your homework anyway. I don’t need you to lecture me. I just wanted you to listen.”

Rin pauses, and Sousuke hears his inevitable sniffling sounds, and he knows he’s completely screwed. If Rin’s starting to cry, it’s only going to get worse from here.

“I can’t even go out one night without you acting like this. I thought you’d be happy. Aren’t you always telling me to take lots of breaks? I’m trying to take one right now by going out and you’re treating me like a child.”

“Rin, I’m just _worried_ ,” Sousuke implores, “It’s— I’m so far away from you and it’s—“

_—killing me._

“—troublesome.”

“You know what’s troublesome, is you acting like this,” Rin retorts. “Who cares if I don’t know where I am? I’m an adult, I’ll figure it out. I’m not some helpless baby. You don’t need to worry.”

“I’m saying I can’t help but worry,” Sousuke answers.

“Well, _I’m_ saying to stop. Just let me enjoy myself. You’re not my wife, you know?”

It’s a silly, throwaway insult, one that Rin probably won’t even remember saying the next morning. But it cuts deep, deep into Sousuke’s heart and lodges inside amongst all the pain and misery of loving this boy. _You’re not my wife_. No, he’s not, of course he’s not, he’s not even a boyfriend. He’s just a friend that had Rin for a single year of high school before he lost him again. Sousuke has spent a good chunk of his life just purely missing Rin. It’s not fair of him to say something like that. It’s not fair.

Of course, Sousuke can’t tell him just how unfair it is.

He grits his teeth and says, “No, I’m not,” and he hears his own voice break.

“Anyway,” Rin says, sounding impatient, “I’m going to go now. I’ll let you go back to whatever you were doing.”

“Rin—“ Sousuke blurts before he even knows what he’s going to say.

“Sousuke,” Rin interrupts. “Next time… just listen.”

Sousuke doesn’t know what to say to that. There’s a pause, as if Rin’s waiting for his reply, and then he sighs.

“Alright. Bye then.”

The line goes dead.

Sousuke brings an arm over his eyes and prepares for a sleepless night. It’s always like this when Rin gets mad at him. He can’t sleep when that happens.

For some reason, his thoughts flash back to Momo. He wonders if Momo’s had any sleepless nights too. Maybe he’s flattering himself thinking about that, though. For all he knows, Momo could have gotten over it already. Not that that would excuse the fact that Sousuke left without a word. It wouldn’t. It’s still an awful thing. He still owes Momo the decency of a reply.

It’s been a week already. He had originally figured he’d give Momo a little time, but it’s not like it's going to get any easier the longer he puts it off. It’s still going to be terrible to reject him. But he has to do it. He told himself he wouldn’t leave things like this.

He’s already awake. Might as well start the process.

_Can I come over later today to talk to you?_ , he sends.

That’s good. Something not too forceful, not too mean. Momo, after all, is a friend. He’s someone who, for better or worse, Sousuke wants to continue having a relationship with. They didn’t swim in a relay together for nothing. They swam together because they all understood each other. Because they all wanted the same thing. It’s hard to find people like that. Sousuke isn’t letting go of the guy if he can help it. Besides, Rin would probably be annoyed at him if he left this sort of thing ruin a perfectly good friendship. And after what’s already happened with Rin today, Sousuke doesn’t exactly want to deal with that.

His phone buzzes. He checks his screen.

_Sure._

Momo's awake. And Momo isn’t one to arbitrarily stay up past midnight; Sousuke knows that from high school.

Sousuke almost asks him why he’s up, but he figures he already knows the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual, pls let me know if there are typos.... thank you!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you again for the nice comments!! hope i can ramp up the drama soon.

Momo gets out of bed in the morning feeling worse than he did when he got in it. He didn’t sleep a wink. The most he could do was screw his eyes shut and try to regulate his breathing enough to get tired, but it was impossible. Everything was impossible. Today feels like it’s going to be impossible too. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get through his classes today without fainting, throwing up, or perhaps dying altogether.

Well… for starters, he should probably eat something. That’s what Nitori-senpai would say, right? _You have to eat breakfast no matter what, Momo-kun_. That’s exactly what he’d say, Momo knows it. _You can’t be going to class on an empty stomach_.

Momo stands in front of the mirror on the wall and looks at his face, and as expected, he looks fucking awful, which is just _wonderful_ when Sousuke is coming over today. Momo’s heart gives a pang, like it’s been doing ever since Sousuke texted him in the middle of the night. He’s read the text over dozens of times. And he’s questioned why exactly Sousuke texted him that so late, and whether or not he should have responded as quickly as he did, and if he should have said something other than a curt _Sure_ , that probably came off as mean, didn’t it, Sousuke might’ve thought it was passive-aggressive or something, but it wasn’t, Momo just didn’t know what else to say, his fingers were trembling when he typed it—

“ _Ugh_ ,” he groans, pulling at his own hairs. He can already feel a headache coming on. He looks back towards his phone on his bed, thinks about texting Sousuke something else. What? Good morning? How are you? No. He can’t. He’s already going to see him later on, why would he do that? Why would he bother Sousuke like that?

Suddenly, Momo feels like crying, and he’s mad at himself for feeling like that, and there are too many emotions boiling up below his skin, red hot frustration and anxiety and fear, rushing to the surface and threatening to seep over, and— he wants to call his brother. 

He wants to call him. He needs to call him. And he unlocks his phone, pulls up Seijuurou’s contact page like he always does, and stops, because he knows he can’t. There are so many things he can’t do, and this is one of the worst.

Seijuurou doesn’t know about him.

So, like he always, always does, he calls the next best person, the person he was thinking of earlier. He calls Nitori.

It takes a total of five rings before Nitori picks up, which is expected. Nitori gets to sleep in a bit more than Momo does because his college classes start later in the day. Still, by now he should be used to Momo calling this early. And anyway, it makes Momo really nervous when he doesn’t pick up right away.

“Momo-kun?” Nitori says as soon as he answers. “What—“

“Hey, um—“ Momo interrupts, and he knows, _knows_ , that he’s going to cry. He’s going to cry really bad, he can feel it. His chest hurts, it really hurts. “I wanted to talk to you, I— It’s just, I really need to talk to— I just—“

He can’t get out any more words before a sob escapes. He clamps a hand over his mouth and doubles over. “I—“ But he can’t, he can’t say any more.

“Momo-kun.” Nitori says it gently, like he always does when he listens to Momo cry. He says it like Momo needs him to say it.

Momo puts his phone aside and buries his face in a pillow, and just cries, and it doesn’t matter if Nitori isn’t actually with him, he just cries and cries, and it’s better because he doesn’t feel alone. So he lets it out, all his terror and all his anger, lets it pour from his body in violent waves. His mind is a mess, thoughts frenzied and sharp at the edges. He thinks of Sousuke, thinks of how he wishes he could take it all back.

He sobs into his pillow until his eyes are sore and his throat is raw, until the tightness in his body relaxes and he feels too weak to even grip his pillow anymore. It’s when all he can do is hiccup that Nitori speaks up again.

“Momo-kun, please. Please tell me what’s wrong.” His words are full of worry, shaky. “Do you need anything, I can—“

“He’s coming over today,” Momo answers. He puts the phone on speaker next to him, too tired to even hold it up to his ear. “He asked if he could come over today.”

“…Momo-kun.”

“I’m scared,” Momo breathes, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m so nervous and scared. I wish I’d never told him, Nitori-senpai. I said I wouldn’t regret it, remember? But I do.”

“Yamazaki-senpai is kind, Momo-kun. You know he is. He won’t say anything mean, I know it,” Nitori implores. “He’ll be very kind, I just know it.”

“That’s not the problem though, you know? I know he’s kind, that’s why I…” Momo trails off, blinking his eyes open again. They hurt. Of course they do. He’s been crying for days. “It’s just, when he… rejects me, it’s…” Momo feels tears welling up again, and he can’t even feel pissed off about it. He doesn’t have the energy.

“Momo-kun, I know, it’s… it’s going to be painful, I know,” Nitori answers urgently. “It’s going to be awful.”

He says he knows, but of course he doesn’t. Which is fine, Momo knows he’s only trying to help. But he can’t know, there’s no way he could know. Momo feels like his heart is being ripped to pieces. Nitori says he knows, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t. It hurts. It hurts to be overlooked. 

“I like him so much.” Momo’s voice breaks, but it’s all he can say.

“I know, Momo-kun.” 

 

* * *

 

“What a pain.”

“Senpai, pretty, pretty please!” Momo’s aware that he’s begging, and he definitely sounds ridiculously annoying, but he can’t help it. “Please, please, will you coach me too?”

Sousuke lets out a long-suffering sigh, and that’s how Momo knows he’s won. It didn’t even take all that much. The perks of having a grating voice, he figures.

“Let me finish changing, at least.”

“Yahoo!” Momo bursts, and runs off to tackle Nitori in an excited hug. “Yamazaki-senpai is gonna coach me too!”

“Oh, really?” Nitori asks, straightening himself up after being nearly bowled over. “That’s great, Momo-kun!”

“I’ll be faster than ever before now!” he declares, climbing onto a bench and pointing to the ceiling. “I’m going to reach the very top with Yamazaki-senpai’s excellent teachings!”

“Momo!” Rin yells from some yards away. “Get off there before you break your head open on the floor!”

“I’m not cleaning up your skull fragments if you fall, you know,” Sousuke says as he passes by.

“Senpai!” Momo jumps off the bench and rushes after him. “When can we start, when can we start?”

As it turns out, they’d start that very same week.

“Are you an idiot?”

It’s the third time Momo has smashed his head into the pool wall, and he’s not about to deal with Sousuke insulting him when his head is throbbing. He yanks off his goggles and pulls himself out of the pool to sit at the edge. “This doesn’t always happen,” he pouts, rubbing at his head.

“That’s the thing. This never happens in races, it only ever happens at the school pool. Are you distracted or something?”

Momo shrugs. “I dunno. In races I feel really… focused? I guess. Like all I can focus on is the race. But yeah, I mean, when I’m here, my mind wanders a lot. So I forget to stop on time.”

Sousuke gives a long sigh. “Uh, okay. What kind of stuff do you think about?”

Momo kicks his feet in the water, feeling his face heat up. “Gou-san,” he admits, embarrassed.

Sousuke doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. Momo twists his goggles between his hands, feeling Sousuke’s eyes on him, but he’s not about to turn around and face him. It must seem silly to someone like Sousuke, but it’s true. And, anyway, Momo is a growing boy, so of course he’d be distracted by thoughts of girls, especially girls as cute and nice as Gou-san. It’s natural. Completely normal.

“Uh, alright. How about this,” Sousuke says. “You want to impress her, right? So just think about that when you swim. Instead of, er, letting it distract you, just focus on doing a good job to impress her. That might help.”

“You think so?” Momo asks, finally turning to face him. He’s surprised by how embarrassed Sousuke himself seems to look. “You think that’ll work?”

“Sure. Swimming for someone else is a good motivator.”

“It is?” Momo slips back into the pool and puts his goggles on again, looking toward the other wall. Well, Sousuke at least sounds serious. He may as well give it a try, pretend to swim for Gou-san. What would it be like if Gou-san were watching him? He’d be nervous, obviously, but he’d want to do his utmost to show her his ability. Just like in races. He just has to pretend she’s here too.

“Give it a shot,” Sousuke says.

Momo gives a vigorous nod and waits for Sousuke’s signal before kicking back into the water. As he thought, it’s a bit different this time. A little more nerve-wracking, but it’s a thing he can live with if it means not conking his head on the side of the pool. He feels slightly more powerful than before. He makes it to the other end of the pool and back with powerful strokes, and stops right on time. He pulls his goggles off and hears Sousuke say “good job”.

“I did it,” Momo says happily, twirling his goggles around. “Although I wish Gou-san was _actually_ here to watch!”

“Well, if you don’t keep practicing, it won’t even be worth it when she does watch you,” Sousuke answers. “Let’s keep at it.”

“Ah, okay! But…” Momo leans over the edge of the pool, thinks about what Sousuke said before. He can’t help but be curious, seeing as it worked for him. “You said swimming for someone else is a good motivator, right? How do you know that, senpai?”

Sousuke doesn’t immediately answer, which catches Momo off guard. He thinks maybe he’s overstepped some boundary— he doesn’t know, but it seems like maybe he shouldn’t have asked. He’s confused, it didn’t seem like such a private question or anything.

Sousuke smiles then, which catches Momo even more off guard.

“I have a lot of experience with that. That’s all.”

Momo doesn’t really know what he means, but he knows better than to pry any further. There’s something strange in the air now. He’s not sure he likes it.

“Alright, put your goggles back on,” Sousuke says. Momo nods, already eager to keep going.

 

* * *

“What?” Rin snaps as soon as he picks up the phone.

So he’s still mad. Sousuke wasn’t sure what he was expecting.

“Hey,” he says, trying to keep his voice level. “Just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Fine. Everything’s fine. I’m fine. Is that all?”

It looks like Rin’s not going to make this easy for him, but when has he ever? Sousuke can only look at the clock on his desk and wipe a hand over his face in frustration; he has no idea why he’s calling Rin in the first place. If anything, he should be rehearsing how he’s going to apologize to Momo in a few hours. That’s what he should be doing, not calling Rin. This is only going to stress him out more. He knew that before he even began dialing his number. He knew this was going to stress him out badly, he knew that Rin needed space. He knew this, all of it.

“You’re not feeling too bad? From, uh, yesterday?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I drank lots of water.” Rin sounds like he’s seconds away from hanging up on him.

“I’m glad,” Sousuke admits, and allows himself to let out the sigh he had been holding in. “That’s good. Yeah.”

There’s a small silence before Rin simply says, “Okay.” Sousuke figures he should say something before he hears the line go dead.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts, not even sure if those are the right words. “For what I said. I know you don’t need me fussing over you. But I… I just worry sometimes.”

He doesn’t hear an immediate reply, which makes him feel even worse. He messed up, he knows he did. He revealed too much of himself. But he can’t help it, when he cares so much.

“Yeah, that was pretty annoying,” Rin says at length. “Because, you know, you’re always telling me to get out and make friends and to make sure I’m not pushing myself too hard, and then on the one day I go out drinking, you lecture me. So.”

“Yeah, I know, I—“

“I mean, I understand you were worried or whatever, but are you really going to do that every time I go out? Because that's going to be really bothersome. I'm not a child, alright? I can take care of myself, even if you don’t think so.”

“I know that,” Sousuke says, “Obviously I know that.”

“Well, if you know that, then why do you do it?“

“I was worried, like you said. I was just worried. And no, I won’t do that every time you go out. So rest assured.” Sousuke can feel himself growing suddenly annoyed too, and knows that that is definitely not the best course of action to take because that’s just going to reveal even more of his feelings. But he’s frustrated now, because Rin doesn’t understand, and there’s no way he could ever understand. There’s no easy way to explain it to him without confessing altogether.

“What do you mean, ‘rest assured’? Why do _you_ sound angry now? I’m the one with a reason to be mad.”

“What reason is there to be mad when your best friend is worried about you?” Sousuke bites out. He should rein himself in, he _needs_ to, before he says something he can’t take back. But— But it feels just a little good to get this out, and Sousuke feels sick for it.

“You’re always worrying, that’s the thing. You never stop worrying.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t worry if I didn’t know how bad you get when you drink.”

“ _What?_ ”

“That’s why, Rin. I’ve seen you throw up plenty of times—“

“That doesn’t mean it’s going to happen every time, idiot. I could have been out drinking water all night and you still would have gotten worried, so what are you getting at? It’s the same thing either way.”

He’s right, it is the same thing. Sousuke lies anyway.

“No, I wouldn’t have. I was worried because you’re such a lightweight. You didn’t even know where you were. Not exactly reassuring.”

“Why are you being like this?” Rin snaps. “I’m positive you’ve gone out drinking since I left and you don’t see me worrying like you do.”

“That’s because I actually know how to care of myself.”

“Oh, do you?” Rin asks, voice edged with sarcasm. “If you knew how to take care of yourself, you wouldn’t have messed up your shoulder.”

Well.

There’s an ensuing silence of a few seconds. Sousuke feels those words dig right into his chest, right into where it hurts the most. He brought this on himself. It’s all his own fault, because he had the choice to keep his mouth shut and he didn’t do it. This is what he gets for letting his feelings run away with him.

“Sousuke,” Rin rushes out, “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, I didn’t—“

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not. I didn’t mean to say that, I didn’t, I just…”

For the first time since he’s known Rin, Sousuke actually wants to hang up the phone on him. It’s a horrible feeling.

“I don’t know what to say.” Rin’s voice sounds pained. Sousuke can’t stand this.

“I have to go,” he lies. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Rin gets the hint. “Okay,” he says, after a considerable pause. “See ya.”

Sousuke can’t even bring himself to wait a few seconds before ending the call. He grips his phone in his hand, stares down at the black screen, and debates throwing it directly out his window. He’s not sure he has enough money for a new phone, however.

Shit, he hates himself. And he hates himself because he’s mad at Rin when this wasn’t even his fault. He pushed him to say that with his bitter attitude. He’s such a fool.

The phone doesn’t go out the window. Sousuke drops it, instead, on the floor, and falls back onto his bed. This is just what he didn’t need today. Not today, when he has to see Momo. Knowing his own heated tendencies, he’ll probably take out his anger on the kid when he's the least at fault here.

No. No, he can’t do that. He absolutely cannot do that. He’s already been unfair enough to Momo. Doing that would definitely make Momo hate him for good.

That wouldn’t be entirely unwelcome though, considering how much Sousuke already hates himself.

-

Momo wakes up in an awkward position. His neck is extremely stiff, probably a result of sleeping face down. His stomach gives a massive grumble but Momo can’t be bothered with that right now when he’s pretty sure he missed one of his classes.

He sits up onto his knees, and looks down at his phone in his bed, praying it’s not too late to go to class. In a rapid motion, he stabs the home button on his phone and looks at the time: _12:25_. Momo immediately wants to cry again, and it’s so predictable at this point that he wants to punch himself in the face. He needs to stop crying. It’s his own damn fault that he fell asleep. It’s his own fault that he stayed up last night. Who else could he blame it on? Sousuke? It’s not Sousuke’s fault that he chose to confess and bring about this nightmare of a week. It’s no one’s fault but his own.

He has two unread texts, probably from Nitori. Now that he remembers, Momo’s pretty sure he fell asleep while on the phone with him. Which is embarrassing enough on its own, but aside from that, it’s pretty rude and a waste of his friend’s time. He opens the first text, and sure enough, it’s from Nitori. _Hey, you fell asleep while we were talking. I can tell you’re really tired, so don’t think I’m mad about it, okay? Please take care of yourself, Momo-kun. Please eat something, and don’t be too upset if you sleep through class. I hope everything goes well today._

One day, Momo really has to tell Nitori what a good person he is. He opens up the second text.

It’s from Sousuke. Momo’s heart jumps painfully in his chest.

_Is it okay if I come over around 7? I know your classes end before then._

They do, Sousuke’s right. Momo tries not to think about how Sousuke remembered that detail that Momo told him one day in passing. He fails, miserably. It’s impossible, it’s impossible not to think about it. It’s so foolish of him to get happy over something as small as this. He knows it. He tells himself— repeatedly. It’s silly, it’s ridiculous, it’s childish. Don’t get your hopes up over something like this. Don’t, don’t. In seven hours he’s going to crush those hopes between his own hands.

Don’t like him so much.

That’s basically what Momo’s asking of himself, he realizes. Not to like him so much. To treat every interaction between them as if it means nothing. To forget the sound of Sousuke’s voice, the sight of his laugh. To erase the feeling of heart-pounding eagerness every time Sousuke looks at him. He can’t do it.

_That’s fine_ , he texts back. It’s not fine. As much as he wants to see Sousuke, he doesn’t want it to be like this. Momo knows what’s coming and he can’t stand it. He’s not Rin, he needs to understand that. There’s no hope for him. That’s the bottom line.

Well, Momo can at least attend his other classes. And it’s a good thing too, since he really needs to keep himself busy. If he continues thinking about the inevitable rejection, he’s going to sob and that’s the very, very last thing he needs. And he can focus on making himself look... decent, at the very least. It’s Sousuke, yeah, but he’s not even sure he has the physical or mental energy to spend more than ten minutes making himself look presentable. It’s not like it’ll matter. He could look the best he’s ever looked in his damn life and Sousuke would still reject him because he’s not Rin. So, unless Momo can suddenly become taller and ruby-haired and beautiful, he’s going to get just what he expects.

A text notification distracts Momo from his thoughts. He knows it’s from Sousuke, but he doesn’t open it right away. He grips his phone in his hand, takes a deep breath to quell the sudden uptick in the pace of his heartbeat. This is so impossible. This is so ridiculously impossible.

Exhaling, Momo brings the phone up and reads a rather short message. _See you then._

Momo falls forward, burying his face into his pillow as his heartbeat spikes even higher. Momo even likes the way Sousuke texts. This is _impossible._

This is going to be the worst day of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual, pls let me know if there are typos, thanks!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry for the wait!! ;; thank you for the comments, they make me very very happy!!

Class goes well, surprisingly. Momo is able to distract himself enough to keep his general feeling of unease at bay, although he does doodle on his notes a bit more than usual. He has to fight all day to keep from texting Nitori about his impending doom, but he manages. And he eats, also. Not very much, because he’s not hungry, but he did succeed in shoveling a sandwich into his mouth before class, so at least that’s taken care of. What he needs to focus on now that class is over is actually making himself look nice. Earlier, he had told himself he wouldn’t spend too much time on his appearance, but now, with half an hour before Sousuke arrives, the reality of the situation has hit him in full force and he _cannot_ face Sousuke looking like he hasn’t slept in five years. So he ambles out of his hoodie and sweatpants, fully aware that his clothes _do not matter_ — in fact, those words are blaring in his head right now. _Your clothes don’t matter, what are you doing, this won’t change anything_ , et cetera. He also considers dismounting his childish otter clock from the wall before he really realizes he’s going too far. No. If he’s going to do anything, looking presentable is the only thing he will allow himself to do. He has to have some self-control.

His phone buzzes and Momo trips over his own two feet rushing over to reach it on his bed. It’s a text from Nitori. He could slap himself for his silly, premature excitement. He does, actually — not too hard, though. Just enough to bring him to his senses. Not that it works.

_Hey, is he there yet?_ , it reads. _Although now might be kind of early._

Momo types back _No, he’s not_ , and gives a shaky sigh. Looking at the time on his phone is only making him more anxious. 

_Okay. Let me know how it goes. ♥︎_

Nitori isn’t exactly one to use hearts, so this surprises Momo, but fills him with affection just the same. At the very least, he’ll always be able to count on Nitori.

It doesn’t help his nervousness, but Momo feels a bit more comforted. He passes the time fussing over himself; it takes him fifteen minutes alone to figure out what to wear and the rest of the time to do his hair, which looks the same by the end anyway; frizzy, and of course, still painfully orange. His movements grow increasingly frantic as the time passes, and by the time he hears a knock on his door, he’s shaking all over and feels slightly feverish. There’s nothing more he can do. He gives himself one last look in the mirror before walking mechanically over to the door.

_It’ll be okay_ , he tells himself, and it feels like a lie.

He opens the door somewhat slowly, unable to keep his hands from trembling. It’s worse when he takes in Sousuke’s tall form, wearing a black jacket that gives Momo a peek of his collarbone. He almost shuts the door right in his face.

“Come in,” he says simply, stepping back. He’s not sure what to do suddenly, and busies himself with closing the door as Sousuke takes off his shoes. He lingers there for a second, staring at the doorknob, before he hears Sousuke clear his throat. He catches a yelp in his throat before it manages to escape his mouth. He turns around reluctantly, already feeling his face going hot. Sure didn’t take long.

“So, um,” Sousuke begins, “Thanks for letting me come over. I, uh, wanted to talk to you in person—“

“Do you want to sit down?” Momo finds himself asking, feeling extremely awkward just standing there. He doesn’t really give Sousuke a chance to answer, going over to plop down in the corner of the room where he has a cluster of variously shaped pillows (and, embarrassingly enough, stuffed animals) for when he doesn’t want to sleep in his bed. Sousuke doesn’t protest though, and he sits cross-legged on the floor in front of Momo. It feels quite odd, honestly, just as it did last time, to have Sousuke in his apartment. It feels like everything in his room is open to judgment. The exposure is very uncomfortable.

“As I was, uh, saying.” Sousuke isn’t looking around too much however, seemingly focused more on the floor. “I wanted to talk to you in person instead of, well, over the phone or something like that.”

“Okay,” Momo says. His voice sounds embarrassingly quiet. “Yeah,” he says again, a bit louder. He hugs his knees up to his chest. Nervousness thrums throughout his body, a steady numbing.

“I just figured it was the better option.” Sousuke pauses, expression unreadable. Abruptly, his eyes flick up to meet Momo’s. “It’s about what you told me.”

Momo is glad Sousuke is doing him the courtesy of not blurting such embarrassing information out loud, and he nods, and vaguely wonders just how red in the face he is. The thing is, Momo doesn’t blush adorably like those girls in manga or anything; when he blushes, he looks like a tomato about to go into cardiac arrest. It’s distinctly unappealing. And he doubts it’s going to get any better— if anything, it’s only going to get worse the longer Sousuke is here.

“I… I want to apologize for leaving that day. That, uh… There’s not really any excuse for that. I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I… feel really bad about it.” Sousuke’s voice is low, calming. Momo’s fingers twitch. “I guess I… got a bit overwhelmed."

“Overwh—“

“Not that,” Sousuke interrupts, “I should have. I know that you had way more of a reason to feel overwhelmed. But, uh, that’s what happened. And I’m sorry. I really am, Momo.”

Sousuke saying his name makes Momo want to cover his face with his hands, but he can’t, he can’t move. His heart is racing so fast he can hear it in his ears. “Okay,” he says. “It’s fine.”

“You can say that, but it’s not. It was a selfish thing to do.” Sousuke pauses. “I… well, I was mean to you that day in general. But the thing is, I don’t want you to think I don’t care about your feelings. Because I do. That day, I was just… overwhelmed, as I said.”

Momo is hopeless enough already. He can’t stand to listen to anything more that might give him convince him he has prospects with this guy. “Okay,” he repeats in a small voice. “I get it.”

Sousuke looks at him with an almost sympathetic expression on his face. Momo can feel the urge to yell at him rising. “I’m really sorry,” Sousuke says. “I… I wish there was a way I could make it up to you.”

It happens in the spark of a second. The violent flash of an idea like lightning striking all the way through his fingertips. Momo jolts slightly where he’s sitting, but he doesn’t think Sousuke notices. More than before now, his breath is rushing in and out of him, making his chest feel tight where he’s holding his knees against it. He stretches his legs out and leans forward, hands on the floor.

“ _Do_ you want to make it up to me?” he asks. It’s so bad that he doesn’t even feel any impulse to stop himself. He can feel the _thumpthumpthump_ of his heartbeat send shivers over his entire body. He _wants_ — he wants this.

Sousuke looks thrown. “I, um… I mean, yeah, if I can.”

“You can.”

Sousuke fidgets. It would be cute if Momo didn’t feel utterly disgusted with himself right now. “Okay, how?” he asks.

“Give me a chance,” Momo says, without a second thought. “An actual chance.”

“What?” Sousuke blurts.

“A chance to make you like me. Before you reject me, I just want—“ Momo’s throat finally catches. It’s probably just as well. He’s only making this worse. “I want—“ No, that’s enough. He shoves his hands over his face and clenches his teeth, begging himself not to cry. He’s felt enough humiliation for a lifetime. This doesn’t need to add to it.

“Please leave,” he manages, even as bitter tears begin to sting in his eyes. “Please, please just go away.” Sousuke cannot, _cannot_ see him like this. Momo's heart has been breaking all week; letting Sousuke see him in such a pathetic state will probably kill him.

He’s a fool. He’s such a fool for letting Sousuke come over. What possessed him to believe he wouldn’t cry at the first opportunity? What made him think he’d be strong enough to deal with this? Why did he _ever, ever_ confess to him? There must be a flaw in himself that allowed this to happen. Blind optimism? Naiveté? Weren’t those positive traits at some point in the past? Everyone always liked that about him. Is this what the other side of that positivity is like? Is this what you get when you aren’t realistic? Is this what you get when you ignore your own warnings?

“Momo…” Sousuke sounds hesitant.

It’s too much to hear his name said like that. Tears escape, and his shoulders start to shake in his effort to keep from crying out loud. This is even more degrading than having Sousuke walk out on him last week. 

But this time, Sousuke won’t leave. Momo awaits the sound of him getting up and walking towards the door. Momo really, really will scream at him if he doesn’t leave in the next few seconds. What, is it enjoyable to watch someone cry over him? Hadn’t Nitori said Sousuke was kind? Sousuke should know when to leave well enough alone. Let a guy cry without torturing him by staying and watching him, for God’s sakes. Let Momo be miserable by himself.

“Get out of here,” Momo bites out, “Just leave me alone, I don’t need you to—“

“Momo.” Sousuke grabs Momo's arms and pulls his hands away from his face. “Realize something. I don’t want to hurt you. But I don’t understand. I’ve never dealt with this. I had no idea.” He shakes Momo’s arms slightly. “I don’t know how far back this goes for you. But I never had a clue. For me, this seems like it’s coming out of nowhere. I— I don’t understand.”

“I _know_ ,” Momo answers, desperate. “I know you don’t. But I…” Against his better judgment, he surges forward, grabs at Sousuke’s jacket. “It’s… I…” He can’t get the words out.

Sousuke’s hands cover his own. They’re warm. Momo thinks he could melt.

“Momo.” Soft, coaxing. This is absolutely impossible.

“I like you,” he whispers. Momo hangs his head, ashamed at his own lack of restraint, but continuing all the same. “I really like you. I… Senpai—“

Sousuke’s hands squeeze his. “Why?” he asks. “I don’t…”

One last, futile attempt is all Momo will allow himself. He raises his head and the words gush out of him in the least shaky voice he can manage, which is still a voice that sounds embarrassingly weak.

“Give me a chance and I’ll tell you everything.”

Momo still won’t stop crying. He has to take his hands out of Sousuke’s grasp, very reluctantly, to wipe at his eyes. That’s it, isn’t it? He’s embarrassed himself far, far enough. He’s proved just how desperate he is for Sousuke. He’s done it all, just like he initially wanted to. He had wanted to bare his heart to this person. Now he knows the gravity of the mistake he has made. This will never, ever happen again. With anyone. Momo will never do this again. If he got such a shitty result with someone as nice as Sousuke, he can just imagine how the rest of the world will kick him around if he just spouts his feelings all haphazardly. Momo doesn’t even care how dramatic he’s being right now. This _hurts_. He tried his best to keep his expectations low and it still feels like he was punched in the gut. He already wants to get on the phone with Nitori and distract himself. He wants to forget this. He wants to forget ever liking Yamazaki Sousuke.

“I’m done with this,” he mumbles, just as Sousuke says something else.

“I’ll do it.”

Momo flashes him a tired glare. “Do what?”

“I’ll do it,” Sousuke repeats. “I’ll give you a chance.”

Momo stares. Sousuke stares back, eyes unreadable. There is no way,  _no way_ Momo just heard what he thinks he heard.

“What?” he asks carefully, not daring to even breathe. “W-What?”

“Momo. You asked me to give you a chance, right? I said I’ll do it.” Sousuke’s voice is eerily even. “Unless you don’t actually want me to.”

“Are you pitying me?” he blurts, and immediately regrets it. He should be grasping at this opportunity with both fucking hands. And instead he’s lashing out; his pride is already in shambles, there’s no need to defend it. What is he doing?

“I’m not doing this out of pity,” Sousuke answers quickly. There’s a hardened edge in his eyes that simultaneously frightens and excites Momo. “I have other reasons. Don’t make me think about this more than I have to.”

Momo resigns himself to silence. There is far too much to consider all at once, and he’s having trouble reining in his emotions. He’s still crying, he realizes belatedly, and he wipes at his wet cheeks with hands that won’t stop shaking, and eventually he just gives up, hands falling weakly into his lap along with tears that seem to be falling out of pure habit at this point. He hangs his head and lets his hair cover his face, trying desperately to get a handle on whatever the hell is going on. Of course, that’s all blown to bits when Sousuke takes his face, lifts it back up, wipes his tears away with his thumbs — This is too much for Momo’s frayed sensibilities, and he convinces himself he must be dreaming. There’s no other plausible explanation for what has just transpired, for what _is_ transpiring.

“You don’t have to cry so much,” Sousuke says softly. “Some things aren’t worth it.”

Some things. This isn’t one of those “things”; it hasn’t been for a long, long time.

“You are,” Momo whispers, because if this is a dream, he’s not worried about what he says. “You’ve always been, to me.”

Sousuke looks at him sadly with those droopy eyes of his and says nothing in response. What is there _to_ say to something like that? Momo knows that’s probably how Sousuke feels about Rin, too, so he must understand. And if he understands, then he knows there is nothing to be done about it. It’s not something Momo can control, and even if he could, he has some doubts about whether or not he would change it. That’s how irrational this is. Surely, surely Sousuke understands.

Sousuke reaches out to ruffle his hair and Momo knows deep, deep down, he’s going to think about the feeling of Sousuke’s fingers for the rest of the week.

Well, he might as well make that the rest of his life. He’s already being quite dramatic; no harm in continuing.  

“You’ll change your mind about that some day.”

_Did you?_ , Momo wants to ask. _About Rin?_ He won’t, but he will say this.

“Try me.”

-

It’s Momo. That’s why, Sousuke thinks, and narrowly avoids running into a group of jocular schoolboys coming out of an arcade. They’re tossing some sort of stuffed animal prize between them, apparently trying to keep it away from someone in the group. Not that Sousuke would normally care about this, but what is significant is that he cares even less than he usually would.

It’s because it’s Momo. Because he’s never Momo cry like that, like his heart is breaking. That’s why he agreed to it. If it were anyone else, he would have said no. But Momo— there’s too much history between the two of them, between all of the members of that relay team. Sousuke can’t _not_ care, when it’s Momo.

That’s what he tells himself. The real reason is probably a lot more complex than that.

Is this his way of getting revenge? Revenge for what, against who? Himself, for being foolish enough to put all his hopes on a boy far above his level? Is this revenge against himself for ruining his own chances of standing on the same stage with him? Sousuke wouldn’t put it past his own self-destructive tendencies to lead him to do something so ridiculous. He should have looked at Momo’s tear-streaked face and remembered the futility of his own attachment to Rin. He should have been strong against it. Instead, he looked at it, felt it move his heart, crumbled beneath the emotion of it. And made the worst decision for everyone involved.

This is bad, this is bad, this is so bad. Sousuke doesn’t like Momo. There is no chance of Sousuke ever liking Momo. But he understood him, sitting there watching him cry; he understood what it feels like to break yourself up over a boy. He understood the hopelessness of it. And he knew he could change it; that he could rip Momo out of the whirlpool of undignified misery he was caught up in, and give him something to grasp onto. Something real, something better than daydreams. Something that Sousuke wishes for to the depths of his soul.

Maybe it’s that Momo cried for him. Maybe that’s what really made the difference. He’s seen a person cry for him once. He was weak then, too. Maybe it’s that, that specific outpouring of feeling, those specific tears falling as a person grabs onto his jacket and speaks to him in a trembling voice trying so hard to stay even. Maybe it’s that, maybe it’s so many things. Maybe it's everything.

Sousuke is only too glad to make it back to his apartment, knocking his key against the keyhole a few times before he finally manages it to shove it in and unlock the door. He closes the door behind him directly, then leans back against it, feeling suddenly weighed down and simultaneously incredibly, incredibly restless. He needs to do something, he needs to stop thinking about this, but maybe he should, maybe he should go over how to take it back, how to tell Momo he’s sorry, he can’t. It’s Rin, it’s always been Rin. And it will never be him.

That would be heartless. Is he heartless? Of course he isn’t. So, what, then? Put up a facade for a few weeks? Okay, he can do that. Sure. Why not? Of course he can do that. Can he do that? No, yeah, he can, he can.

There is nothing holding him back from being able to do this. And if he’s going to do this, he may as well get it over and done with before Rin comes back from Australia. It’s in his best interest to get this out of the way as soon as possible, so the sooner he starts, the better. Give Momo a few weeks, then let him down easy, courteously. Give him the fantasy he wants and then clip his wings, bring him back to earth. He can do at least this much for Momo. Once this is through, Momo won’t be able to say Sousuke didn’t give him a chance. Even if this chance is a lie.

"I won’t tell anyone." Momo had said. "I won’t say anything. I won’t, I promise I won’t." As if he knew exactly why Sousuke wants to keep this a secret. But there’s no way he could, how could he know? He’s just Momo.

"When can I see you next?" Sousuke had asked.

_"_ Tomorrow." Momo’s response had been immediate. "I— um— Tomorrow, if that’s okay with you?”

“Tomorrow’s perfect. I’ll text you later.”

Momo had stopped him at the door with a warm, quivering hand, which he drew back just as quickly. “Um, just—“ He looked over Sousuke’s face like he was searching for something, biting on his bottom lip. Sousuke isn’t sure if he saw what he wanted to see. “Good night, senpai.”

“See you, Momo,” he’d said, and that had been the end of it.

The end of it, for now. Sousuke moves to his desk and deposits his phone on top of it. He isn’t expecting to get any evening phone calls from Rin with the way things are, but it still feels… fairly shitty, in all honesty. Well, everything’s kind of shitty right now. And he’s tired, and he’s frustrated, and jumpy, and he’s just glad to be home, but he knows it’s a short-lived respite. The night is ending, sure. But then the dawn will break, and this game will begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me if there are typos!! also, feel free to talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/vanevidivici) or [tumblr](http://augustinesycamore.tumblr.com/)!! i really like talking about soumomo!


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